The Marshal Takes A Bride

by Sylvia McDaniel

  Lucas took the cookie from Tucker.

  “What do you say, young man?” she said, looking at the boy as he stood between her and Tucker.

  “Tank you,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

  Sarah’s heart leaped within her chest, and she quickly glanced at Tucker to see his reaction.

  Sarah watched as he smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair.

  “You’re welcome.” He glanced at Sarah. “Let’s get the two of you settled in at your grandfather’s place.” What if something gave away the truth that Lucas was his son? What if he counted the months and realized that Tucker had been conceived the night they were together? What if Tucker asked her if Lucas was his son?

  She was overreacting. She knew it, but the mother in her worried, while the physician inside her reminded her to remain calm.

  Sarah glanced up at the hotel in front of which they now stood. “So this is Grandfather’s new hotel. Pretty fancy.”

  “Wait till you see the inside. Your grandfather went all out on this one.”

  Tucker opened the door to the El Paso Hotel, and Sarah quickly walked through, her hand wrapped securely around Lucas’s smaller one. She felt rattled. She hadn’t known that Tucker had come back to Fort Worth, she had never dreamed of finding him waiting for her at the stage depot, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to escort her to her grandfather’s hotel.

  After all, sometime before dawn the night they had made love, he had walked out on her and never glanced back, not caring that his leaving had left her confused and grieving, until she realized she was pregnant. Then she had become angry, before finally she reached an understanding.

  Tucker Burnett would miss seeing his son grow into a man, only because he chose not to be with her. And somehow reaching that conclusion had helped her to put his betrayal behind her, until now.

  As she stepped into the entrance, her eyes took in the dark wood paneling lining the walls of the lobby, the brass fixtures, and the oak counter. A door led off to the right, and she could see a room filled with people sitting at tables eating.

  The door shut behind Tucker, and he called out to the clerk sitting at the counter, “Charlie, this is Mr. Kincaid’s granddaughter. I’m taking her to the old man’s rooms.”

  The man jumped up and nodded in greeting. “Welcome, missus. Don’t worry about anything; we’ll take your bags for you.”

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  This was certainly nicer than any hotel her grandfather had previously owned. But then, she had come home to a town that had changed much since she had left. Fort Worth had been merely a spot in the road when she had gone away to college, but now it had grown into a frontier town that leaned just a little on the wild side.

  She had seen the brothels, the saloons and the gambling halls as the stage had rolled into town. Fort Worth was no innocent settlement. It was a cowboy’s last chance to sow a few wild oats, before he headed up the trail to Dodge City and sold his cattle.

  The clerk behind the desk soon had two men carrying their bags to some unknown destination.

  Tucker put his hand at the small of her back, and she flinched. No one had touched her there since he had all those years ago. No man had held her—no man had been in her bed—since Tucker.

  Not even the man she married.

  She stepped away from his touch, refusing to acknowledge the tingle his caress always seemed to ignite, refusing to pick up where they had left off all those years ago.

  Sarah James was a mother, a doctor and a woman who didn’t need a man to take care of her. She did just fine on her own. The only reason she would even consider another man would be for her son. But she had yet to find one she deemed suitable, and it wasn’t a pressing issue at this time in his life.

  “Your grandfather keeps a suite of rooms. Come on, I’ll take you to them,” Tucker said, leading the way down a hall.

  “Thank you,” she replied politely.

  At the end of the hallway, Tucker stopped before number one twenty-six and rapped on the door.

  “Come on in. The door is open,” she heard her grandfather say.

  Tucker turned the doorknob, and Sarah stepped through the door, her son in tow. The sight that greeted her eyes stunned her. Her grandfather was not sickly looking at all, but rather robust, older, but just fine. He was not near death as she had been led to believe from the telegram she had received from Eugenia Burnett.

  Tucker watched as Sarah walked into her grandfather’s suite of rooms and couldn’t decide if he should stay or back out the door and let them have their reunion alone. But he was reluctant to leave; he wanted to know what had brought Sarah Kincaid home.

  The old man looked up from his desk, and for a moment, Tucker was afraid Sarah was going to have to resuscitate her own grandfather. The man’s shock was so evident at the sight of his granddaughter and great-grandson standing before him.

  “Sarah?” he asked. He stood and slowly came around the desk. “This is quite a surprise.”

  They met each other halfway across the room and enveloped one another in a hug.

  “You don’t look sick,” Sarah said.

  Tucker glanced at Sarah, a frown on his face. What had she just said about her grandfather being sick?

  “I’m fine. Who said I was ill? I’m just old,” her grandfather said, his arms still wrapped around Sarah. He released her, stepped back and gazed at his granddaughter. “You look wonderful.”

  “Momma?” Lucas said, tugging on her hand. George Kincaid leaned down to his great-grandson. “Hey, little man, give your old grandpa a hug.”

  The little boy reached out and tugged on his mustache and giggled. “Momma?” he questioned.

  “It's okay, Lucas. We talked about meeting your grandpa.”

  “How about instead of a hug, you just shake my hand. We’ll hug later,” the old man said, trying to relieve the child’s fears.

  He reached toward the boy and shook his hand. The child laughed as if it were a game.

  “I’m glad you’re here, but what made you decide to come for a visit?” he asked. “Did you think I was ill?”

  “Yes. I was afraid you were dying. I received a telegram from Eugenia Burnett that you were ill.” Surprise almost left Tucker speechless as he turned toward Sarah, shock at her words stunning him. His mother had sent her a telegram?

  Tucker scowled, suddenly suspicious that his mother was once again up to her matchmaking shenanigans, trying to get him and Sarah together. But how did she know they had a past. Did his mother know that Sarah was happily married and unavailable to wed her son?

  Grandpa nodded and glanced over at Tucker. “Several months ago I was ill, and your mother came to take care of me. But it was only a bad cold.”

  “Why would she send for Sarah?” Tucker asked.

  Grandpa shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she thought I was sicker than I looked.”

  “I’m puzzled. If Sarah wasn’t married, I would think that she’s back to her matchmaking shenanigans, but that’s not possible.”

  Sarah’s head jerked toward him. “What are you talking about? Your mother’s matchmaking shenanigans?” Tucker frowned. “My mother has been trying to get all her sons married, and I’m the last holdout. But that’s not possible, since you’re already married. . .

  Sarah glanced away from him for just a moment, and then she turned back to Tucker, the light reflecting off her eyes the way the sun glistens on water. “I’m not married, Tucker. I’m a widow.”

  Chapter Two

  “Mother!” Tucker called as he strode into the home his family had lived in for over twenty years. The door slammed behind him as he walked down the hall, past the parlor to the bottom of the stairs. He had ridden hell-bent from town after leaving Sarah and her grandfather, determined to put an end once and for all to his mother’s interfering ways.

  He couldn’t believe that once again she had stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. Would she never learn to let her children make th
eir own choices and decisions in life?

  “Tucker, what are you doing here?” his mother said, as she came down the stairs, surprise on her face.

  Eugenia Burnett looked the picture of the sweet little grandmother, but everyone in her family knew that image hid an armor of determination that no knight could have ever penetrated. Tucker pitied any person who stood in her way where her children were concerned. It was understood that Eugenia would do whatever she felt necessary to take care of her family.

  “I’m here to discuss your package. It arrived from Abilene today,” he said, his voice gruff with anger.

  “Well, where is it?” she asked excitedly.

  “I left Sarah Kincaid James with her grandfather,” he said angrily.

  “That’s nice. I haven’t seen Sarah since she left to go to that fancy school back east. But what about my package? What does Sarah have to do with my package?”

  “Drop the act, Mother. I know about the telegram.” “What telegram, dear?” she asked innocently.

  “The one you sent Sarah saying that her grandfather was ill and that she needed to come home,” he replied, his voice sharp.

  His mother reached the bottom of the stairs and paused, gazing up at him, her brown eyes curious.

  “Well, he was ill and he needed her,” Eugenia said, turning on her heel and walking past her son into the dining room and on into the kitchen.

  Tucker followed her, determined to settle this once and for all. “But his illness wasn’t life threatening.” “At the old man’s age, who can determine what, is life threatening and what is not?” She threw up her hands. “He was very ill.”

  Tucker reached out and caught his mother by the arm, halting her forward progress. He released her arm and walked around her still form to stand in her direct path, making her face him. “Mother, you lied to Sarah. You made her think that he was about to die. How could you be so cruel?”

  “I did no such thing. I told the truth. She chose to interpret that he was dying,” Eugenia replied, her hands on her hips.

  “What did you say?” Tucker asked, already knowing what was written in the telegram.

  “I only told her that her grandfather had been ill, that he was doing poorly and needed nursing care,” Eugenia replied.

  Tucker stared at her incredulously. “Do you have no conscience? How could you take her away from her patients?” Tucker asked, his temper simmering just below the surface. “What if she had been killed coming here from Tombstone? That’s a dangerous trip, Mother.”

  “I only sent Sarah a telegram saying that her grandfather was ill. Had been ill for quite some time and was doing poorly. I did not say he was dying, he needed her or anything else. The woman made the decision on her own to come, so stop blaming me.”

  She turned to the stove where a pot of coffee simmered. She reached for a cup sitting on the counter and poured the warm, fragrant liquid.

  “Why did you send the telegram at all, Mother? If Mr. Kincaid were seriously ill, don’t you think he would have bidden Sarah to come home?” He paused, his eyes narrowing at the way she didn’t seem fazed by his accusations. “Or did you think that Sarah would come home and that you could somehow manage to get the two of us together?”

  She whirled around to face him. “Now, why would I think there was any possibility of getting a man like you to settle down?”

  He glared at her, shaking his head. “Mother—”

  “I sent the telegram because if it were me, I’d want my grandchild to come home and take care of me. I also sent it hoping that Sarah would decide to stay in Fort Worth and that she could deliver Travis and Rose’s baby. Doc Wilson is getting old, and this town could use a younger doctor. Yes, I hope she stays. As for the two of you getting together, if I were Sarah, I wouldn’t have you. You’re too damn stubborn to see that you need a wife.”

  Tucker stared at his mother, speechless. It took a moment before the words poured forth. “Well, good. I’m glad you see it that way, because I sure as hell didn’t want to have to tell you that it wasn’t going to happen. I’m not getting married, and you can take that to the bank. You should be happy you got Travis and Tanner married off. But leave me alone.”

  “Don’t worry, son. I wouldn’t inflict any woman with your wanderlust ways. . . .”

  “Good.”

  “Or your sour disposition.”

  The two stood there staring at one another, the room suddenly very quiet. Tucker ran a hand through his hair. His heart was pounding inside his chest “I’m serious, Mother. I’m not good marriage material. I know it, and I’m happy living the way I am.”

  Eugenia smiled and patted him on the arm. “Good. As long as you’re happy, I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you a good woman who has a fine family, who would make you a good wife and mother for your children. If she’s not what you want I’m sure some other man in town will see her fine qualities and she’ll be married soon.”

  Tucker wanted to roll his eyes, but he resisted. “Did you know that she was married when you sent for her?”

  “She’s not married. She’s a widow.”

  “So you knew Sarah was available?”

  Eugenia sighed. “Sarah is a doctor. Fort Worth needs a new young doctor. I was hoping that she would deliver Travis and Rose’s baby. Plus her grandfather was ill, so she would be coming this way already. If by chance you were interested, then I would have killed three birds with one stone. So don’t go thinking too badly of me. I was only trying to take care of my family.”

  “Fine, Mother, but don’t try to push Sarah on me. I’m warning you to leave her alone.”

  “I haven’t even seen the girl. She could have become homely for all I know.”

  “Believe me, she’s not homely. But there will be no match between me and Sarah or any other woman. Do you understand, Mother?”

  “Yes, I understand. You want to spend the rest of your life alone, free to come and go as you please. You want to die without the benefit of having children and watching them grow up, marry and have children of their own. You don’t want a family, Tucker. You want no responsibilities, no ties and certainly no commitments.”

  Tucker shrugged. “I don’t see it that way, but basically you’re right. No commitments, no responsibilities.”

  “I don’t approve, but I won’t interfere.”

  She was far too agreeable. It was a terrible thing not to believe your own mother, but somehow Tucker just didn’t quite trust her.

  “You don’t have to approve, Mother. This is my life."

  ***

  Sarah had just gotten Lucas to sleep when she tiptoed back into the living area of her grandfather’s suite of rooms, her skirts swishing softly.

  She took a seat on the Empire sofa and turned toward her grandfather, who was reading the paper. She sighed, glancing around the very masculine drawing room. Everything was decorated in heavy woods and dark fabrics. There was an air of quiet conservative strength about the room that needed a feminine hand.

  “He finally went to sleep,” she told the older man, who had raised her since she was ten.

  “Good,” he murmured behind his paper. “He was certainly a tired little boy.” Her grandfather laid down the paper. “Lucas has had quite an adventurous trip.”

  “Yes, he’s not used to being confined, and spending all that time inside a coach was difficult. He probably drove the other passengers crazy, but he was really very good.”

  Sarah gazed at the man who had become both father and mother to her when her parents were killed.

  Her grandfather nodded, his eyes searching hers. “So did you really think that I was dying, Sarah?”

  She swallowed, not wanting to admit she had been afraid he would be dead before she arrived. “I wasn’t sure. But the telegram said that you had been ill and that you weren’t getting better.” She flicked at a spot on her skirt. “And because I haven’t been home since I left for college almost ten years ago, I decided it was time to pay a visit.”

&nb
sp; “I’m glad you did.”

  “You know you could have come to see me and Lucas.”

  He shrugged. “I intended to visit you and the boy, but the hotel’s kept me busy.”

  “You have people who can run it,” she said.

  “Just like you found someone to handle your practice, but you didn’t want to, did you?”

  She smiled, thinking of the turmoil she had been in before she left. “You’re right. I hated leaving my patients.”

  He glanced at her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I almost came out when Lucas was born. Especially after I found out that your husband had died. But I broke my damn arm and just didn’t feel up to the trip.”

  Sarah looked at her clasped hands and flexed her fingers, willing herself to relax. “Those were trying times.”

  She sighed and gazed around the room, the memory of her quick wedding to a man who had died before Lucas was born somehow seeming pathetic and hopeless. Everyone in town had thought she was mourning her husband, when in fact she had been pining for the loss of her child’s father. She had been afraid of raising a child all alone, right up until the moment the midwife had laid him in her arms. Then she knew that everything was going to be fine.

  “Things have been better since Lucas was born.”

  “Did you love your husband a lot?” he questioned.

  She paused for a moment, wanting to tell her grandfather the truth regarding her son, but fear kept her from revealing the tale. For a moment she wrestled with her conscience, and then decided to tell him partially the truth. “No. But I love my son more than life.”

  Her grandfather stared at her, his face full of surprise, studying her. “Then, why did you marry?”

  “It seemed the thing to do at the time. He was a kind man, and I live in a dangerous town,” she lied.

  How could she tell her grandfather that she had married Walter Scott James because she had been pregnant with Tucker’s child? That she had wanted her son to have a name without the stigma of being called a bastard.